Terry was beaming. “Linda, look at this. Boy, I’d love to get hold of it and clean it all up, get it running. . . .”
“But why? You already have a motorcycle, a whole lot newer and better-looking than that!”
“Humph. I can tell you’re not a true Biker Babe. It’s a Harley! It’s the mother of all motorcycles!”
“Uhuh.” Linda wandered to another area of the huge warehouse, full of antiques and, frankly, junk. But then she saw IT, and stopped in her tracks.
“Terry, look! It’s an original Singer sewing machine just like my Mom had!”
“Uhuh. Nice. We done?”